Dick Summer Connection

Today’s podcast exposes the new practice of Sologomy. That’s when you marry yourself. Seriously that’s happening now. I don’t think Sologamists have thought this through. There is a very high divorce rate. What does that do if you marry yourself? If you divorce yourself, who gets what? And how does a guy know if he’s heading for a divorce? Is it when he begins to stop caring about the difference between red, chartreuse and green? Or when he doesn’t really care if the outfit he’s wearing makes him look fat? Or is it when he neglects changing the batteries in his TV channel remote? Should a woman be concerned if she simply stops walking funny? Or she begins laughing at fart jokes? Or if she throws her back out trying to write her name in the snow? How about when she begins sneaking into movies that feature guns, fast cars and Catherine Zeta Jones?

The new “THING” in town is “Sologamy.” That’s marrying yourself. Seriously. It was in Time Magazine last week. You can find out about it in today’s podcast. I was looking in the mirror this morning while I was shaving, and I was talking to myself. “Self”, I said, “Would you really want to marry that guy in the mirror?” Guys make pretty strange faces while we shave…I do anyway. Being kind of an old fashioned guy from the Louie Louie Generation, I married a beautiful woman…my Lady Wonder Wench. And I realized that she has to look at me making these pretty strange faces, and I don’t want her to flee in terror when she sees me make my “Shave under the lower lip” face which is one of the stranger ones. Life is difficult for guys who marry a beautiful woman. It’s a tough job, but somebody has to do it.

I almost fell out of my big, comfortable, manly poppa chair in my living room just now. I figured “I’ve got to deal with this in some length in today’s Podcast. It’ something I saw in a very legit news magazine.  The article says, “Longtime single people in places like Brooklyn and San Francisco are now marrying themselves in full ceremonies.” First of all, I was born and brought up in Brooklyn and I’ve been to San Francisco. Any comparisons are fraught with foolishness. Brooklyn guys figure a 7 course meal is a hot dog and a six pack. The same cannot be said for guys in San Francisco, because it’s really hard to tell which people are guys there. Second, and far more important is I don’t think Sologimists have really thought this out. It’s not like if you win a free trip to Paris, you get to go twice. You and yourself don’t even get an upgrade to “Ruling Class” on the flight.

Memorial Day seems like a good time to give you part of one of the stories in my book Staying Happy Healthy And Hot. As with all the stories in the book, this one is true:
Good taste is never more strictly observed than at a military funeral. I had a friend by the name of Joe, who now rests in peace
in the Calverton, New York, Military cemetery. Joe was a very well known writer, a real friend, and a bit of a rascal. He liked doing
weird things. Things that were in terribly bad taste. For example, one night he loaded a water pistol with warm water, put it in his pocket,
and stumbled into a bar pretending he was drunk. He leaned against one of the other guys at the bar and pulled the trigger on the water
pistol, sending a sudden stream of warm water down the guy’s pants. I’m not sure how he got out of there alive. But that was Joe.
On the very sad day when he was laid to rest, my Lady and I took part in a moment of something that some people would say was in
terribly bad taste. But it was a moment I’ll never forget. There was an honor-guard rifle salute, befitting Joe’s honorable
and courageous service in the U.S. Army. When the last shots were fired, a quick shaft of sunlight reflected from a bugle’s brightly
burnished brass as a soldier—standing tall, at attention—played taps. Such a lonely sound, taps: precise, respectful, tearfully final.
Day is done. Rest in peace. The flag was folded and presented to Joe’s widow. White gloves. Deadly silence. Most respectful good
taste. But then, when the coffin was lowered into the ground, as Joe had requested in his will, the bugler added a few bars of Joe’s favorite
song. It was in terribly bad taste. But we sang along, as Joe wanted us to do. We all stood together there, in the bright sunlight, three of his
ex-wives and a small group of his friends, including my Lady and me, all so sad, holding hands and huddled together. And we sang:
“M-I-C … We’ll see you again some day… K-E-Y … Why? Because we loved you. M-O-U-S-E.” It was in terrible taste. But under the tears some of us were finally able to smile. There were even a couple of quiet laughs. Joe loved laughs. One last laugh together is a good way to remember a friend.
Forever.

I just remembered that It was at about this time last year that I climbed up on the roof and whacked a wasp nest off the chimney. I did a podcast about that. I wonder if that four engine 6 ton wasp that was giving me a waspy center finger the other day lost his house when I did that, and he became some kind of a waspy Tony Soprano, who decided to straighten things out. Guess I’ll never know for sure. Lots of things guys really don’t know about.

T.G.I.F. means it’s time for Dick’s Details from today’s podcast. Dick’s Details is a a bunch of totally unimportant stuff for you to stuff in one ear, so you can squeeze the important stuff that’s stinging your life out the other ear, and you can grab a grin and win. Tiger Wood’s caddie made $1 million a year. Guess he could easily afford a caddie. Just imagine…interesting mental picture…a caddie in a caddy. If the answer is “An aerobics class” what is the question. Don’t know do you. I’ll tell you in a minute. It says here that a humpback whale can eat 5,000 fish in a single sitting. I didn’t know a humpback whale could sit. It also says here, and I quote, “No matter how hard they try scientists cannot teach a house fly to do tricks.” I think that basically proves that some scientists have way to much time on their hands. There has to be a very interesting back story to this supposedly true item: When King Harald of Norway proposed marriage to Queen Sigrid of Denmark in 996, she had him executed…wow…talk about pms. That’s just not a good way to start a relationship. If the answer is “An aerobics class” the question is, “What has 100 legs and lives on yougurt?” My buddy Al just joined an aerobics class. He realized he needed to lose a little weight when he noticed his belly was wiggling every time he brushed his teeth. Dick’s Details. They take your mind off your mind.

A little house keeping here. If you like these podcasts, or my spoken word story CDs , or my book Staying Happy Healthy And Hot, please tell a couple of friends, because they might like them too, and you’d be doing me a favor. Thanks a lot.

It’s a beautiful day, and I’m looking out at the Bull Durham swing I just put out in the front yard. I call it a Bull Durham swing because it’s the kind of swing that Kevin Costner and Susan Sarandon were sitting on at the end of the movie Bull Durham. One of my favorite baseball movies. It’s in today’s podcast. It’s a beautiful day. And that swing is just sitting there. And I’m in here. In the house. Where I’ve been all winter. I’m recording this in May. It’s a beautiful day. And I just put the swing up after a long winter of storage in the shed. That’s a job that gets your attention when there’s only one person doing it. The frame is kind of heavy, and the only way to carry it by myself is holding the top of the frame up over my head as high as I can and walking it all the way over to the front of the house. Once the frame is set up, it’s time for the swing. The swing itself isn’t very heavy but it’s about six feet long which is too long and floppy for one guy to carry both ends. As I said, the shed is all the way over on the other side of the property. My Lady Wonder Wench stuck her head out the door and volunteered to help…but I said…”No…stand back woman. I can handle this.” I don’t know why guys are the way we are. But I’m getting too old to fight it. 

Today’s podcast is about my recent adventures with a wasp, that I’d just hit. Even though I hit him, he still didn’t fly off, he just sort of slowly backed away kind of daring me to follow him back to his nest…which I realized must have been the wasp nest I found in my mail box. I found it there the day before yesterday when, without looking  I just reached in for the bills and catalogs that are usually there. The nest was all the way in the back of the mailbox. He wasn’t home at the time. But naturally, when I noticed the nest, I reached in carefully and squashed it with the electric bill. Maybe he figured out it was me who did it, and he decided to get even. Those wasps are a lot smarter than we know. I think he was hanging out…lurking…I like that word…lurking…that’s what he was doing…lurking on the bush just outside my glass door, just waiting to pounce when I sat in my big, manly, comfortable poppa chair. He’ll be back I’ll bet. He’s smart, but I think some dogs are smarter. And this dog is a sly, fun loving, genius. 

Today’s podcast is about a situation that I didn’t want to become a sting operation. A 6 ton, 4 engine wasp slammed into my double pane glass front door, and sat glaring at me. I pulled in my gut, and carefully slipped outside through that skinny opening I just made. I know he saw me but he didn’t fly away. He just stood there glaring up at me and giving me a waspy center finger. I took careful aim with the bottle of wasp spray, and pushed the button…and missed. I guess he didn’t like that because he took off and flew right up at my face. I have enough problems with my face, I don’t need a sting from a four engine 6 ton wasp to make things worse. So I did the duck and dodge, and I got my hand up pretty fast, and took a swat at him…and I got him. I didn’t squash him…I just hit him away with the palm of my hand. But he still didn’t fly off. He…hovered…like a chopper…just out of reach. I’m sure it was just my imagination, but I thought I heard a tiny voice laughing. I knew for certain that he figured he was going to make it a very rough week for me. To find out how bad, take a listen to today’s podcast.

Today’s podcast is about a wasp that was giving me a waspy center finger. I am a man, and I wasn’t going to let this challenge to my masculinity pass. I keep a can of wasp spay right there by the door, because as I said we have lots of them this time of year. So I picked up the can, and very carefully opened the door…just a crack. I didn’t want him getting into the house, because if my Lady Wonder Wench saw him she would become a pink streak running into the bedroom where she would lock the door and drag her dresser in front of it and vow never to come out until I whacked that wasp… and she would insist that I slide his scalp under the door to prove it before she would come out again. To experience the shocking end of this sting operation, check out today’s podcast.